


Unapocalyptic

by ziparumpazoo



Category: Stargate: SG-1
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance, commentfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-11
Updated: 2009-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-02 10:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziparumpazoo/pseuds/ziparumpazoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the end of the world, only not, and somebody forgot to tell them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unapocalyptic

**Author's Note:**

> Another entry in annerb's Clicheathon Commentfic Challenge #7

"So…" Jack's finger traced a path along the bare skin of her back, running from the top of her earlobe to the base of her spine. "Not a real apocalypse, huh?"

Sam tried not to twitch as his hands took a detour on the return trip, investigating the hollow of her collar bone like visitor to a foreign land. A foreign and newly conquered land. He caught her shiver anyhow and the creases in the corners of his eyes deepened. He'd found that sweet spot and he knew it.

"Not an apocalypse at all." She tossed the two-way into the corner of the tent. "Daniel says Hammond had these maneuvers planned for months. Apparently the President wanted to find out just how the SGC would handle a real extinction-level disaster. It was all a simulation."

The stubble from his two-day old beard scraped her shoulder as he leaned in to drop a kiss on that newly discovered sweet spot. Sam rolled onto her back to let him work his way up her neck, under her jaw, and finally, around to her lips.

"Didn't feel much." He kissed her eyebrow, her forehead, her nose. "Like a simulation to me."

Sam put a finger to his wandering mouth. As much as she'd have liked to stay here with him, lazing about in the warm sunlight that filtered through the nylon canopy, she could hear people moving about outside. Some of the seventy-or-so 'refugees'. The best-and-brightest from the SGC whom they'd led through the gate when it looked like Earth was going up in a puff of smoke.

People who'd seen the Colonel hole up with his teammate, and who'd be astute enough to put two and two together and figure out that the noises in the dark had not been a strategic planning session like the Colonel had claimed.

"Oh god." Sam covered her eyes with one hand and fumbled for her shirt with the other. "How are we going to explain this in our reports?"

"What's to explain?" Jack reached under his back and handed her the shirt.

Sam pulled it over head and stared at him. "This." She waved a hand around the tent as if their scattered clothes and rumpled sleeping bags explained the whole thing. "What we did last night. What we were just about to do again before the radio interrupted."

Jack shrugged. "Who's going to tell?"

"Who?" Sam stared at him, eyes wide. "How…" Did he really expect that what they'd been doing had gone unnoticed? Was he deaf or just oblivious? Because she was sure that moan she'd let out when he'd done that thing with his tongue had not been just in her mind.

"Okay, we'll tell him the truth." Jack sucked in his stomach while he lay on his back to zip up his pants. "We thought it was the end of the human race, so we were just doing our part…setting a good example, if you will. Ensuring the survival of the species."

Sam felt doubtful. And something was digging into her side. She reached down under the sleeping bag and pulled out his cap. Jack took it and bent the bill back into shape before jamming it back onto his head. She had to admit that there was a certain plausibility to the plan.

"Fine," she said as she reached for her boots. "Survival of the species it is."

She grabbed the tent zipper and looked over her shoulder for one last glimpse of him lying there in the warm sunlight, wearing nothing but his pants and his beloved cap.

"You'd better hope that since this is just an exercise, Janet doesn't discover we were using live rounds."

.fin


End file.
